Seven Demons

by Aidan Truhen

  * * *

  —

  It’s true that the waterfalls are amazing. Basically the whole mountain is like a hot dog bun wrapped around a giant sausage of pressurized water but that does not tell you how it is at all. Umptybajillion gallons of it filter through cracks in the stone and form a great big gigantic flood, which drives down here with a noise that is like a skull-crushing version of one of those old recordings of water falling they used to give you on channel 7 on transatlantic flights to help you sleep, back when the headphones were just plastic tubes with air in them and the sound was literally piped into your ears through a clear plastic wishbone that looked like a stethoscope. On the tour, you stand on a steel bridge over the cauldron of water and look into it and it is the most powerful thing I have ever seen in my whole life. It is not water like water you have ever seen not even if you are a deep-sea fisherman a long liner a rig diver not any of those things. This is water like a war in the earth like a pit full of people fighting over and over for one scrap of food before dying like they would crawl and fight and die and eat the fallen and still they cannot get less hungry and more are born out of the sky and more are eaten in every passing heartbeat and it will go on forever.

  So of course it is part of the security inside.

  I mean you would you just would.

  Part of the access corridor to the the vault is flooded. It is part of the Teufelhammer and so no, you cannot just swim through. Swim in this and the pressure would not blow out your eardrums it would smoosh you down into an easily portable jelly ball.

  So sure you can wear diving armor. That is what used to be called a JIM suit yes yes of course I know what it was called because I was a kid in the ’80s and it was a thing.

  Except that it will not help here unless we can hack the security system because the flooded section ALSO has an electromagnetic wall and the only release is on the inside of the vault. You walk into the flooded section all high and hard in your mecha suit of diving supervillain macho and OOPS now you are sucked through a hole by this big magnet. In the brochure it says there is a holding net but I will bet you ten million Swiss francs right here and now that in real life the holding net does not deploy and the current takes you.

  Down.

  And down.

  Forever.

  Like that.

  In the video brochure on the Kircheisen website there is even a little animated fish called Egli who shows you around. When the magnet gets switched on he laughs his fishy ass off at the burglar guy who is wearing a stripy mask under his JIM suit and carrying a swag bag.

  “I find the sound very soothing,” the Hermès lady says, and we all say yes of course it is very soothing of course.

  It is not soothing.

  If there is a hell anywhere it is here and it is made of the same clear cold stuff you drink in bottles in fancy restaurants and you just look at it and know that it would kill you and it does not care.

  Would not notice.

  The Teufelhammer is just like the universe.

  I do not like when the universe is bigger than me.

  * * *

  —

  We go up in the gondola and I say again: We are not climbing this thing. Not an option. The rock has vertical and even overhanging sides with a plateau where the castle is and above the plateau there is a tower of stone like a single finger telling you to go fuck yourself.

  This being Switzerland the mountain is not known locally as the Go Fuck Yourself it is known as the Kuhglocke or cowbell, which is cozier I guess but does not really express the identity of the thing. The castle itself is 711 meters up from the valley floor and is accessed exclusively by the cable car and as you sit in it and think about explosions you remember it is a little metal bubble suspended on a high-tension wire cord rope. Looking up and down you can see that the gondola stations at both ends are heavily fortified. Saul looks at me and I look at Saul and Saul makes a face like he does not immediately know what kind of can opener you use for this we do not have one and if we had one we would right now need a bigger one.

  I go over to Rex and I whisper maybe thermite and Rex says maybe. Maybe just a nuke. A small nuke would not be overkill, Rex says, because you’d need an awful lot of thermite.

  Rex likes thermite and who doesn’t. Thermite is when all the oxygen that is married to iron or copper gets horny and runs off for explosively hot sex with aluminum and their chemical love creates a pillar of fire that burns white and enormous. A detonating thermite grenade will turn steel into soup in a few seconds but gosh.

  Most steel.

  Maybe not this.

  * * *

  —

  The gondola takes six minutes to go from the ground to the top. As we reach the upper station it’s kind of like being swallowed by a whale. A big reinforced concrete whale specified to resist a low-yield nuclear blast of the mid-1960s vintage so you know now just basically a nuclear popgun but still hashtag nuclear so there’s that. You can see the battleship doors beyond that, just a glint: defense in depth. Volodya sighs.

  Mountains are poetry from the earth, Price.

  Yeah still wish this one was smaller.

  Nyet. It is as it should be. Big strong mountain. Otherwise why are we here?

  True fact I suppose. But still.

  The Hermès lady directs our attention to a goat on the cliff. We look at the goat for a while. The goat looks back and then quite deliberately pees off the ledge so that a stream of yellow goat urine falls three quarters of a kilometer to the valley below.

  The goat is mocking me.

  * * *

  —

  The bubble gagagagagonks its way through the machinery at the top of its run and goes back down again. In the lobby Volodya gives Doc a spontaneous hug. He lifts her right off the ground.

  “Put me down you idiot.”

  “The mountain is very beautiful. The world is alive Doctor it is joy. So we hug.”

  “You hug I get lifted in the air you ape put me down.”

  “Nyet.”

  “Da.”

  “Nyet.”

  “Da or I will scream that I am being abducted by a giant Soviet and they will rouse the militias.”

  But he won’t until she hugs him back.

  “Idiot,” says Doc.

  “Sure,” Volodya says all smug, “Sure. I am idiot. But still is beautiful day.”

  And then we go out into the street and a tiny little Sound of Music–looking motherfucker comes out of a pastry shop and stabs me in the leg.

  * * *

  —

  It hurts getting stabbed in the leg. It communicates like few other things communicate that someone would like you to fuck the fuck off.

  Doc says: “Do not touch the—”

  (ZwinggggSMASH.)

  (That is the noise bullets make when they are fired from a long way away.)

  (It is one of the few other things that communicates more than being stabbed in the leg communicates that someone would like you to fuck the fuck off.)

  (Bang.)

  (That is the noise of the shot being fired it comes really late it is quite annoying. Now we are hiding behind a postbox. Swiss postbox. Good iron construction. It is a criminal offense on a pretty massive scale here to interfere with the postal service Volodya said so someone is in big trouble also probably shooting people in a built-up area for just no good reason that is likely to be a no-no also. That and stabbing but Evil Hansel is a minor so probably some sort of really shiny Lego-based rehab for him if I don’t catch him first and cut off his pointy little Sound of Music–looking motherfucker head with—eheheh—a Swiss Army knife, which I will totally buy for the—)

  “DO NOT TOUCH—”

  “I am NOT—”

  “Do not touch the fucking knife Price for—”

  “I am not
touching it—”

  “You are touching it how are we having this conversation DO NOT TOUCH THE—”

  “I AM NOT—”

  (ZwingggSMASH.)

  “In fact you ARE that is—”

  (Bang.)

  “Cops will be here any—”

  “That may or may not be a good—DO NOT TOUCH—”

  “It’s in my fucking leg of course I am touching it in that sense it is touching me—”

  “I did not mean that, your other hand is—”

  “I—oh shit I had no idea I was—”

  “Keep your fucking hands away from the—”

  “IT IS IN ME I HATE—”

  “STOP TOUCHING—”

  “I AM NOT IT IS ITCHY IS ALL I—”

  “PRICE LEAVE THE—”

  “GET THE ITCHY OUT OF ME—”

  “NO NO NO NO YOUR DAMN HANDS YOU DAMN—”

  (Bonk.)

  No one says bonk but it is the noise I hear.

  Somewhere Doc says: “Thank you Rex that was very timely. Lucille get that car please I’m afraid we’ll have to kill the driver—yes stop screaming madame—I know it’s unfortunate but I will make this painless there we are—goodbye I will do my best to take care of your family and so on if you have any—no that’s it relax good and five four three two one done. Rex you drive GO. Jesus that’s a lot of blood Price you IDIOT Charlie give me your belt now hold this and—for Christ’s sake Charlie I do not want to fucking hear it you ALWAYS wear underwear when robbing a bank that is just professional—now TWIST—”

  White light and hot cold and sleep now.

  * * *

  —

  “Oh what no Doc I might just sit down—”

  “No Price you can’t fucking just sit down—”

  “But I’m all awake now and I just need a little—”

  Volodya says: “Doctor he is lose blood give me the kit.”

  “We need to stay together—”

  “He must lie still and get transfusion. Cannot be in car chase and running or he will tear the artery open and then is fucked-up. I will take him. You make diversion. Meet at Black House. I will take care of it.”

  “You? What the fuck are you going to—”

  “I am universal donor give me the kit.”

  “Fuck no you cannot just—”

  “I can and I will and I am experience. I have done before. Give.”

  “Jesus fuck no Doc don’t give him the kit he makes human ham don’t let him give me human ham blood that’s just wrong—”

  “Shut up Jack.”

  Big dumb Volodya face all up in my vision tunnel: “Also too Jack it is not human ham we have discussed and I find this continuing hurtful as you know—”

  “Yeah sorry big guy I’m a bad man but hey look this mail is real comfy—”

  “Doctor. Give me the kit.”

  “Fuck. I know you’re a—Jesus fuck it’ll fucking—”

  “I know. If not he will maybe die certainly no good for weeks. These are realities. Give me the kit.”

  “…Fucking take it then. FUCK!”

  “You are good doctor, Doc.”

  “…Fuck!”

  * * *

  —

  I wake in the gray place that is the place that you go when you are not unconscious but not also the other thing. The edges of the gray place are brown and when you push too hard into the real world the brown makes you sleep.

  Negative universe coffee.

  I am lying on sacks of mail and the world is softly in motion. I can feel an engine working GOGA-GOGA-GOG.

  I am in a mail truck.

  No.

  Not a truck a—

  Volodya says: “I get off now Price you go on to end of line.”

  “What? Fuck buddy don’t leave me in this shit OW what—”

  “I take transfusion kit not good if they find us with it.”

  “Well OW but also man stay with me we’ll—”

  “No Price I got stuff to do now. You sleep. Will all be okay. Okay?”

  “Fucking human ham blood transfusion so wrong. You’re gonna leave me NOW? I’m fucking dying here.”

  “I don’t think so. You got my blood in you now. Very rude to die anyway.”

  “Where the fuck is everyone?”

  “They make diversion. I get you away. Was bad situation.”

  “But you’re leaving me now?”

  “Bad situation got consequences.”

  “More people need to think about me is what I’m saying because I got stabbed.”

  “You are asshole Jack.”

  “Yeah buddy I am.”

  “Yeah you are.”

  “Yeah I am.”

  “…”

  “…You’re a good friend I’m sorry.”

  “…Hah. Now is truth.”

  “Well I got your blood in me I guess truth comes with.”

  “You are good friend Jack you got to make it okay?”

  “Don’t get all misty on me—”

  “I don’t get misty asshole I am totally male and Ukrainian.”

  “Sorry buddy didn’t mean to overstep.”

  “Now sleep. Go on to end of line.”

  “I don’t want to sleep I got—”

  “Price.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Sleep.”

  I sleep.

  * * *

  —

  A mail train.

  Not a truck because this is the country of the train. Seriously they have the best trains here there are actual armchairs and bars with real beer and a playground even like red and yellow plastic and happy children all on a train. Standard class because civilization is not a luxury. I tell you, this country, man, they make capitalism look a lot like Socialism sometimes.

  Not always.

  * * *

  —

  Bright light and blue blue sky and a man do not wake me man I am sleeping MAN pay attention you are waking me with your waking—

  The man does not approve not at all. He is stern because I have bled on the mail. Bled a lot he says which you know he likely hasn’t seen a lot of bleeding because that stuff spreads super-duper thin and is real dramatic I feel fine.

  The man is also pissed because I have traveled in the train without a ticket. That is a fine. Also because the mail van is not certified for human transport it is unsafe I am totally risking injury like whiplash with my shabby leg.

  But now he is stern plus extra stern because the blood is a health hazard yes a hazard to public health and that is quite antisocial. It is irresponsible. Am I Swiss? This is un-Swiss.

  I tell the man I am not Swiss.

  He says good.

  He carries me like a child.

  “Are you arresting me?”

  A noise like one of those toys they sell that you shake that is supposed to sound like a cow.

  “Yaaaahhh-uuuuuuuaaaaawh. Later for all this. Now just get you to a bed. You have lost a lot of blood. I know. It is in my mail.”

  “Yeah sorry man I honestly got no idea how that happened.”

  “Yaaaaaah-uuuuuuawh. Of course not.”

  “No I mean obviously I got stabbed I just got no idea how I ended up in your mail van.”

  Guy is old like old old how is he carrying me? I am not small. Straight back and strong legs. Smells like pomade. Snorts again like a bull seeing a very small dog.

  Tiny dog.

  “No of course it is not simple as I say it is obvious that you live an untidy life.”

  “Untidy. Heh. Yeah I like that.”

  “I am Martin.”

  (MAAAHR-tin like tin should apologize for even being there.)

  I can’t remember wha
t I’m supposed to say my name is right now and it’s not like Martin is a damn computer. He doesn’t know Jack Price or he’d be handling this different. So I tell him the truth.

  “My name’s Jack.”

  Not what it says in my wallet but I don’t have my wallet. Don’t have my phone got nothing where IS everybody? Where’s Doc and Volodya where’s Charlie and Lucille and Rex?

  Martin goes up some steps fucking skips up like I weigh like a bouquet of flowers it is the ballet up we go.

  He says oopla. (Oh-op-lah.) This is a general purpose thing that Swiss people say. It can mean that you have fallen down a crevasse and they are holding you over certain death by one arm or that you have dropped your ice-cream cone. It can mean you are starting a downhill ski race or getting out of a chair. It is extremely scalable I like it.

  “Oopla.”

  At this point we have to talk about Swissness because Martin being a thousand years old and carrying a bleeding stranger up a hill like that is totally normal is a Swissness thing and Swissness will totally keep coming up.

  There are countries that have identities and there are countries with civic pride but there is only one Swissness. I will tell you but you will not believe it until you have seen it. So first of all Swiss people are basically immortal and they can bend steel using only their disapproval and that is just normal here. That story where grandma lifts a car off a kid that would not make a Swiss newspaper and if it did people would write in to say that standards are falling because she used both hands. But more than that Swissness is a way of being in the world that is very very Swiss. Like for example: a while back they passed a law here banning minarets because oooo scary Muslims! So right away a Catholic guy builds a minaret in his fucking yard because restricting personal freedom and freedom of religion is un-Swiss. He basically took the whole country out and spanked it and heads were hung in shame. Being un-Swiss is about the worst thing you can say here about someone who actually is Swiss. Foreign people are naturally not Swiss and that’s like a tragedy for them on every level but you know with application and study and wealth and focus it’s not totally impossible for them to become Swiss or at least Swiss-like even if they never get an actual piece of paper saying they are Swiss because not everyone wants to hold a Swiss passport. That is respectable to a Swiss person: there are three or four other passports in the world that are very almost as good and everyone should be allowed some choice and identity of their own. Being un-Swiss is something that can really only happen to you if you are Swiss but you do something that has actual negative-energy anti-Swissness like publicly fuck a chicken. It has to be public because fucking a chicken is disgusting and whatever but private chickenfucking is a matter between a person and their poultry and likely one day the poultry will get its shots in because chickens are dinosaurs with those mad little eyes and you fuck them at your personal risk. But while you’d be a fucking degenerate if you were forever fucking one chicken or another you would only be actually un-Swiss if you either sold that chicken for human consumption—because that is a risk to the health of society—or fucked a chicken in public because then everyone else would have to deal with your degenerate chickenfucking. They would have to contemplate a window of reality which actually encompassed the idea that a Swiss person would fuck a chicken. You would have damaged the concept of Swissness and just let everyone down and that is fucking un-Swiss which is like dying only you don’t get a headstone.